which there was considerable travel, and it was in very fair condition.
Without appearing to do so, Paul slyly kept watch of Merriwell, wishing to see just how Frank stood the strain. He was forced to acknowledge that, for a time at least, Merriwell was standing it very well.
"Oh, he is endeavoring to show me how easy he can do it!" mentally exclaimed Paul. "Wait—wait a bit! I think I will give him a hot push for a bit."
Faster and faster ran Pierson, and soon he was rather gratified to hear Frank beginning to breathe heavily. Yes, although Paul had hoped that Merriwell would show up well, he did feel a momentary sense of satisfaction when it seemed that he was making the pace a hot one for his companion.
Then Frank began to lag. He did not fall far behind Paul, and still he seemed unable to keep his place at Pierson's side.
"I won't do a thing to him coming back!" decided Paul. "Browning was dead wrong. The fellow is capable of short dashes, but he is not the man for a long run. I am rather sorry."
At last, he decided that they had gone far enough
into the country, and so he turned about, without stopping, calling to Frank:
"Now for the hustle into town, and let's see what you are made of, my boy. I am going to run away from you as if you were standing still."
"I wouldn't do that!" flung back Merriwell, as he wheeled about.